


Daughter of Spring

by nellymaree



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Dark Jon Snow, Endgame Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Freeform, Hades/Persephone inspired, I suck at tagging, Innocent love, Jon Snow has a dark reputation, Jon is King of Winter, Jon/Sansa - Freeform, King Jon, King Jon Snow, New Gods, Old Gods, Oneshot, POV Sansa Stark, Queen Sansa, Romantic Fluff, Sansa is 'stolen' by choice, Sansa is daughter of Spring, Starklings, Stolen Moments, Winter Queen, fairytale inspired, sansa is over protected, slightly OOC, unedited, which basically is Westeros version of the Underworld, wildling, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellymaree/pseuds/nellymaree
Summary: Some knew him as the King of Winter. Others, the King of the Dead... She knew him simply as 'Jon'. Her love.Inspired slightly by the Hades/Persephone myth.





	Daughter of Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theSarcasticWench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSarcasticWench/gifts).



> Hi! I randomly found a Jonsa story I wrote a couple months ago. I was inspired by the Hades/Persephone story of Greek Mythology. With elements of Wildling culture sprinkled throughout. 
> 
> This story is unedited. I'm posting it at the prodding of my friend. I apologize for any errors. Grammar isn't my strong point. 
> 
> The characters all belong to George RR Martin.

 

Some called him the King of Winter.  
  
Others, the King of Death.  
  
The daughter of Spring called him by another name...  
  
_“ **Jon**. My love.” _  
  
\-------  
  
His name had been long forgotten by others. Lost to the sea of time.  
  
But she knew it.  
  
He’d whispered it to her one day. Moments after he’d first pressed his cold lips to her own.  
  
Even after all this time, she could still feel it. Him.  
  
The way his lips moved against hers. He had been so cold but a single touch from him had set her alight. Warmth spread through her, like fire…    
  
“ _Jon_. My name is Jon.”  
  
She’d felt as wild as a wolf after that first kiss. The Maiden had always been a good, chaste, girl. Her Mother had raised her to be dutiful, courteous and innocent.  
  
**_“You are the daughter of Spring,”_ ** Mother had once said. **_“You are the bringer of beauty and joy. All that is good, you are. All that you are, must be good.”_ **  
  
It did not feel bad to kiss Jon. To feel his arms around her. To whisper his name over and over, as he hugged her close. She knew her Mother would deem it wrong- but it didn’t feel so. Nothing had ever felt more _right_ ****.  
  
“In my culture, if a man wants to take a wife he steals her,” Jon idly informed her one day. They had stolen a few precious moments in the Godswood. The one place they could meet without being seen.  
  
These were her Father’s woods. Sacred. Placed there to worship him and the other Old Gods. Her Mother rarely set foot in the woods. She was not one of them.     
  
It had been in these very woods that Jon and she had first met.  
  
Apparently, Jon had heard tales of her. The red-haired Maid, with blue roses in her hair. Daughter of Spring.  
  
He’d told her that he’d been driven mad with curiosity from the talk of her. So much so, Jon had abandoned his duty temporarily, to catch a glimpse of her.

At first, the Maid had been frightened of him. Mother had always told her to be wary of strangers. Especially men.  But as time wore on and the visits grew more frequent, the pair became close... Until eventually, perhaps inevitably,  love bloomed.  
  
“That isn’t fair,” The Maiden replied, her hand lost in his dark curls. Tiny snowflakes still clung to Jon's hair, even though he was far from his home. Far from Winter.

They were laying under the Heart Tree, Jon’s head on her lap.  
  
He turned to look up at her. Slightly confused.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“A woman ought to have a say whether she wants to be with a man or not,” she said sharply. “She is not an object to be taken at will or ‘stolen’ as you put it.”  
  
Jon understood her concerns at once. He nodded solemnly.

“That is the beauty of it. A woman is only stolen if she first consents to be beforehand. If she refuses, the man cannot take her. It is against the rules. If he tries, he is punished in a way that gives even the Dead nightmares.”  
  
“Then it is not stealing at all,” the Maiden replied, confused. Her anger abating slightly.

Jon laughed. It was a warm laugh, for a man so cold. He took her free hand and pressed it to his lips. Kissing her soft skin.  
  
“I suppose not,” he admitted, a smile still on his face. "It is just what they call the ritual, my love."  
  
There were stories about Jon Snow. The Winter King. They called him cold and cruel. A man who ruled over the dead beyond the Wall. It was he that ensured the dead and other subjects, remained on the other side. That no one left or entered his realm without his knowledge. His duty meant for severity at times. Jon passed out judgments, fair but strict. He was said to be unforgiving to those that disobeyed him.  
  
Even the Dead feared his wrath.  
  
But she knew that was not him. Not really. It was the part he had to play. Only the Maiden knew the real him.    
  
Gentle, brave and loving. That was the real Jon.  
  
“You can steal me,” she blurted unthinkingly. Jon sat up at once, startled. The pair stared at one another. The warm breeze of Spring rustled the red weir leaves overhead.  
  
Jon’s skin was so pale that it held a blue tinge. It was all the more obvious against the lush green scenery surrounding them. They called her home 'Riverrun'.  It was a fitting name for such a beautiful place. The Spring Maid thought him more beautiful, however.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Jon said at last. Regaining his voice.  
  
She leaned forward, placing a hand on his cold cheek. “I do,” she promised.  
  
She hadn’t intended to blurt those words earlier, but once they’d come out she knew the truth of them.  
  
“I love you,” she said with all the certainty in the world. As though that was explanation enough.  
  
“My love-” Jon began, looking conflicted. “ _If_ I stole you, you would never be able to live here again. Any visits would be short…Once you enter the land of Winter, you become part of it. You cannot be far from it for extended amounts of times without beginning to fade. If you became my consort… You’d not only be part of the land, you’d rule it. Everything the land is, it’s duties... you will gain too. It is a heavy  burden.”  
  
**_Consort._ **  
  
He would make her his consort. Not merely his wife.  
  
In all the excitement, she had nearly forgotten he was a King. A mixture of fear and exhilaration went through her.  She'd be a Queen. The Queen to his King...  
  
“I understand,” she said calmly. Far more calmly than she truly felt.  
  
He looked at her sadly.  
  
“I don’t think you do,” he replied. He placed each of his hands on either side of her face. Cradling her with all the gentleness he could muster. “You would be giving up everything. Your home. Your _Mother_ .”  
  
It hurt to think of parting with her Mother. The Maiden knew it would grieve her Mother more. But she knew her heart.

“I was never meant for Spring,” The Maiden whispered. It felt traitorous to admit aloud. But there it was. She’d always tried to be a dutiful daughter. Good, kind and gentle.  
  
But there was a dark coldness in her, that her Mother lacked. A wildness that could not be tamed. Perhaps not the savage sort, like others... but the sort that yearned to be free. Cunning. Independent. The wolfs blood of her Father before her.

 

Jon had it too. She could sense it. They both had inherited the same wolfsblood. The same resilient, icy wildness, inside…

 

She’d dreamt of the Wall for as long as she could remember. She never understood why, until now.

 

“I was meant for Winter. For snow, wolves, and the cold. I was meant for _you_. You were meant for me. ”  


It was no longer warmth she craved, but the piercing beauty of winter. Only with snow would she become as strong as she needed to be.

  
Perhaps that’s why he’d been drawn to her. Why she’d been drawn to him…  
  
“Steal me, Jon Snow,” The Maid murmured, before pressing her lips to his once more. She drew back, her fingers encircling his wrists. His hands were still cradling her face.  “Take me away…Take me to your home.”  
  
Jon nodded, dazed. Unable to bring himself to argue anymore.  
  
It was clear he still had doubts. But he was swayed by her words, her touch. Her sweet beauty.  
  
There would be consequences. They both knew. But they’d bear the weight of those consequences. Together.  


“As you wish.”

  
\------  
Some called her the Queen of Winter.

Others, the Queen of the Dead.  
  
The King of Winter called her by another name...  
  
“ _**Sansa...** My love. _ ”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> EDIT: Tumblr user moonchildslife made a beautiful mood board for this story. ^_^ 
> 
> Check it out here: http://moonchildslife.tumblr.com/post/177222461283/some-called-him-the-king-of-winter-others-the


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